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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513027">For You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac'>justanothermaniac</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Twincest, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Underage Rape/Non-con, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:42:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jerome can never see. Jerome can never know.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Zachary Trumble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>For You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was sad and needed to vent.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's easier when he closes his eyes.</p><p>Jeremiah has learned that years ago. When he closes his eyes, he can pretend to be anywhere he wants to be. Most of the time he pictures himself on top of a building, staring at the sunset, painting the horizon in a beautiful mix of orange and red. He can hear pigeons cooing and the distant rumbling of cars. There's a glass of wodka in his hand.</p><p>What? </p><p>No, tea. It's <em>tea -</em></p><p>Uncle Zack's fowl breath is hot against his neck, the smell of cheap wodka making Jeremiah's stomach churn. Calloused fingers are gripping his hips tight enough that he's going to leave bruises and the knowledge makes Jeremiah hate him just that much more. Uncle Zack has no idea what lengths Jeremiah has to take to hide marks like these.</p><p>He drags his nails down the bumpy ground beneath him, dirt collecting under his fingernails. More evidence he'll have to get rid of. Uncle Zack just can't resist inconveniencing him.</p><p>"'attaboy."</p><p>Jeremiah shudders, biting his tongue to keep himself from making any more sounds. Uncle Zack enjoys his sounds, he says they're <em>better than the thirstiest whore's.</em></p><p>Jeremiah doesn't even have enough dignity left to feel offended.</p><p>The grip on his hips starts to loosen before tightening again. Uncle Zack is beginning to tremble, an unmistakable sign that he's close. Jeremiah braces himself, both mentally and physically, digging his palms into the dirt.</p><p>With a last snap of his hips, Uncle Zack cums inside Jeremiah, his hot release adding to the burning pain of the sensitive membranes inside. Jeremiah chokes on a cry he's trying to hold in as he slumps, his body wrecked by tremors.</p><p>Uncle Zack always makes sure he releases inside Jeremiah. It's another unnecessary and cruel habit to further consolidate their power dynamics. Like Jeremiah could ever be foolish enough to believe he has <em>any</em> sort of power in this.</p><p>He winces when Uncle Zack pulls out of him, and again when a rough hand connects with the firm flesh of his ass. "We been doin' this for years and ya still ain't loosened up. That's why yer my favorite."</p><p>Jeremiah doesn't answer. He's trying his hardest to swallow back the bile burning in the back of his throat.</p><p>Uncle Zack lets out a low, gruff laugh. "Better get cleaned up, nephew. If mommy or Jerome find ya like this, they're gonna have some questions."</p><p>He doesn't say it in a threatening tone even though he'd be the first suspect if anyone ever found Jeremiah like this. He knows he has nothing to worry about. Jeremiah has had a few years of practice. Getting cleaned up after their <em>uncle and nephew bonding</em> (the bile is rising again) comes as naturally to him as breathing.</p><p>"Well, your uncle's got some work to do. Get some rest, baby boy. We'll have some more fun soon."</p><p>Jeremiah manages to wait until he can't hear Uncle Zack's steps anymore before he vomits, his body convulsing as hot tears stream down his cheeks, salty drops of misery mixing with what's left of his defiance.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Your choice, nephew."</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"The fuck you been?"</p><p>Jeremiah's refuses to look at Jerome, head cast downward as he closes their room door behind himself. He hopes his hands aren't shaking too hard anymore. He's afraid to check. "Shower", he answers, his voice closer to a whisper than anything else. It shouldn't alert Jerome. Jeremiah hasn't raised his voice much in years.</p><p>"Of course, the golden boy is granted extra time to stay nice and clean. Wouldn't want those delicate hands to get dirty now, would we?", Jerome snarls and Jeremiah tries to ignore the tug his heart gives at the bitterness in his tone and the venom in his words.</p><p>He makes his way to their wardrobe, pulling out one of Jerome's shirts. Normally it softens him to see Jeremiah wearing a shirt of his to bed. He hopes it's the case this time too. Jeremiah can't and will never ever ask for it but he needs to be comforted tonight. He <em>needs</em> it.</p><p>Behind him, Jerome sighs in annoyance. "Fine, don't talk to me then. Sorry for botherin' ya, <em>princess</em>. Least ya could do is be there once in a while. In between workin' my ass off for Pete and his shithole of a circus and Uncle Zack tryin' to rip me a new one, I'd really enjoy some company once in a while. If you're not too busy bein' the <em>favorite</em>, that is."</p><p>
  <em>That's why yer my <strong>favorite</strong>.</em>
</p><p>Jeremiah squeezes his eyes shut, keeping his back turned to Jerome as he pulls his shirt over his head. It didn't take as much of Lila's make-up as he feared to cover up the bruises on his hips, so Jerome won't see.</p><p>Jerome can never see. Jerome can never know.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>"It's the least ya can do, don'tcha think?"</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Fate is a cruel mistress but she seems to have warmed up to Jeremiah just a little bit.</p><p>He's wearing Jerome's shirt, laying in bed with his ear above Jerome's heart while gentle fingers are combing through his hair. Jerome is never angry at him for long. He can be angry enough to get physical, shove and slap and kick, but at least it never takes long.</p><p>Jeremiah is drawing circles on his brother's chest with his index finger, a pleasant shiver running down his spine at the smoothness of his skin, the steady beat of his heart, the closeness, the warmth.</p><p>It's almost enough to forget.</p><p>"I miss you, Miah", Jerome whispers into the darkness and Jeremiah's heart clenches. He can't bring himself to answer. He doesn't know how.</p><p>Jerome's hand stops running through his hair. "Don't you miss me?"</p><p>Something cracks.</p><p>Jeremiah bolts up, scrambling off the bed and clumsily reaching for his glasses, shoving them on his face while stumbling over several items on the floor. He ignores Jerome's confused calls and rips the door open, rushes past their unconscious mother on the couch and outside the trailer.</p><p>He's not wearing shoes and the wet grass is freezing cold against the soles of his feet but he can't stop, he stumbles through the night until his foot catches on a guyline.</p><p>Jeremiah trips, barely managing to catch his fall, his shirt - <em>Jerome's shirt</em> - getting dirty and soaked, the cold creeping inside his bones, freezing him from the inside out.</p><p>
  <em>Don't you miss me?</em>
</p><p>Jeremiah pulls his knees up and hugs them, not only shaking from cold anymore. He's sobbing, his heart writhing within his chest, stomach tied into a tight knot.</p><p>"I do", he whimpers into the night, the words like blades through his throat as he releases them. "I miss you, I miss you, I'm <em>sorry!" </em></p><p>It's better like this. It's the least he can do.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>"You owe him, Jeremiah."</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>They just turned eleven. It's the middle of the night. Jerome's arm is draped around his waist from behind, like always when they are sleeping.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jeremiah is startled from sleep by a hand clamping over his mouth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Shhh, it's just me. Dear ol' Unc..."</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeremiah doesn't remember how he got home but he suspects Jerome found him passed out in the rain. Because when he wakes up, it's in their bed and he's dressed in another one of Jerome's shirts.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Yer gonna be a good boy now and come with me. Don't wake yer brother."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jeremiah is blinking rapidly. His vision is blurry because he's not wearing his glasses and the darkness makes it even harder to see. He doesn't understand. Uncle Zack never talks to him. He only ever talks to Jerome. Maybe he's confusing them? People always confuse them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jeremiah's heart starts beating twice it's usual speed. Why would Uncle Zack want Jerome to come with him in the middle of the night? What did Jerome do? Is he going to get beat up for no reason again? Is Jeremiah going to get beat up because Uncle Zack thinks he's Jerome?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The hand leaves his mouth and yanks him into a sitting position by his collar.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"<strong>Now</strong>, Jeremiah."</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jerome has his back to him, sitting on the edge of their bed, putting his shoes on. He doesn't stir when Jeremiah's fingers graze down his back.</p><p>"Jerome?", he whispers, scooting closer, pressing his hand flat to Jerome's back. "Jerome, I'm -"</p><p>"Save it, golden boy."</p><p>It's a hiss, sharp enough to cut Jeremiah's heart clean in half. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Jeremiah flinches away from Uncle Zack's hands. He doesn't know what he's trying to do but he knows he doesn't like it. He knows it's not something he's supposed to do. It feels wrong. It feels...bad.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh, I don't think so, pipsqueak."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jeremiah gasps when Uncle Zack grabs him by his hips, forcefully pulling him into his lap. He can feel something pressing against his butt and it makes him freeze.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yer gonna be a good boy for yer uncle or he's gonna have to get Jerome instead", Uncle Zack growls into his ear before he lets his tongue glide over Jeremiah's neck. It feels hot and wet and gross and the thought of Jerome having to go through this has Jeremiah's heart in a choke-hold.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"I don't even know why I still give a shit about what happens to you."</p><p>Jerome stands up and Jeremiah follows, his heart beating hard and fast as he reaches for his glasses. Jerome grabs them first however and takes them in both hands, an obvious threat to snap them in half.</p><p>Jeremiah can't see clearly enough to recognize the expression on his face but he knows there's pain in his eyes. He hates that look on Jerome's face. He hates being the cause of it.</p><p>"Since the feeling <em>obviously</em> ain't mutual." </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Please, Uncle Zack...I don't like it, it hurts..!'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jeremiah is hiding his burning face in his hands, the fabric of Uncle Zack's tanktop rough against his sensitive skin. He's still straddling him but now there are two fingers moving inside of him, spreading him open, it feels weird and wrong, it hurts, it's going to rip -!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Ah, but ain'tcha bein' <strong>such</strong> a good brother right now, baby boy?", Uncle Zack growls in his ear, flicking his tongue over Jeremiah's earlobe, making him shudder. "Jerome already gets hurt so much...he takes all the beatings, all the punishments...the least ya can do is lemme do this, yeah?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For Jerome. For Jerome.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"That's not true", Jeremiah croaks, his eyes starting to burn and his head starting to pound. "I care about you, I -!"</p><p>Jerome laughs but there is no trace of humor in it. "Oh, <em>do </em>ya now? Well, then I guess ya got a funny way of showing it, little brother."</p><p>"Please." Jeremiah can't see. His heart is aching and he can't <em>see</em>, he reaches out for his brother, curls his fingers into the front of his shirt. "Please, Jerome, you have to believe me -!"</p><p>The air is knocked out of him when he's shoved backwards and his back connects with the mattress, the shattering sound of his glasses following the dull noise of his impact. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Ya tell anyone about this", Uncle Zack hisses, still working his fingers inside Jeremiah, "and I'll do the same things to Jerome. I'll tell him it's your fault. I'll tell him ya didn't love him enough to protect him and he'll <strong>hate</strong> you." </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Don't come crawling to me for cuddles anymore. I'm sick and tired of being your fucking teddy bear."</p><p>Jeremiah once again scrambles to his feet. His head is pounding, he can make out Jerome's features, a blurry mash of red hair and white skin, his orange shirt, his brown pants, moving toward the door - </p><p>"Wait..! Jerome, <em>please</em> -!"</p><p>The door slams shut. Jeremiah's heart shatters into a million pieces.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Jeremiah is shaking all over as he crawls back into their bed. His skin feels itchy and dirty and he thinks he might have to vomit again. He sinks into the mattress and finds the front of Jerome's shirt, clinging to him as he buries his face in Jerome's neck, inhales Jerome's scent, Jerome, Jerome, <strong>Jerome</strong>.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Miah?"</em>
</p><p><em>Jeremiah flinches and shakes his head, cuddling closer to his brother, releasing a shaky breath when a familiar pair of arms wraps around his small frame. </em> <em>"Nightmare?"</em></p><p>
  <em>And he nods because Jerome can never know, Jeremiah must never tell him where he's been, what he did, what Uncle Zack did. Jeremiah wants to be a good brother. He wants to protect Jerome. He needs to protect Jerome.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jerome who always protects him, Jerome who always gets blamed for everything, Jerome who always gets beaten.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's the least Jeremiah can do. Because he loves Jerome. He loves Jerome so much. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jerome hasn't talked to him in days. He doesn't even look his way. Jeremiah tried to cuddle against him once at night but Jerome only turned his back to him without a word. </p><p>It took about two days for Mr. Cicero to get him new glasses. Jeremiah almost wishes it would've taken him longer. He can't stand looking at Jerome. His face is hard and his eyes are cold and even though he never directly looks at Jeremiah anymore, he knows it's because of him.</p><p>Jerome's presence behind him is almost unbearable. Jeremiah exhales shakily, his heart clenching. "Brother?", he dares to whisper, about to turn around to try one more time.</p><p>Jerome swiftly moves into a sitting position and slides out from under the covers. Hasty footsteps before the door opens and shuts again. Jeremiah's back feels cold and he squeezes his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. </p><p>Fate truly is a cruel mistress.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeremiah has numbed himself enough that he barely registers his uncle pounding him from behind. He takes it without a sound, without any reaction at all and hopes that Uncle Zack won't notice. Jeremiah wouldn't want to give him a challenge.</p><p>He rests his forehead on his arm, the cold floor a welcome contrast to the heat radiating from his uncle. The grip on his hips tightens and Jeremiah realizes that this time, he won't have to worry about trying to hide the bruises. Jerome hasn't looked at him in over a month. </p><p>Jeremiah hears a sharp gasp and his heart stops. The sound was nothing like Uncle Zack's deep grunts and it didn't come from behind him either, it came from -</p><p>Jeremiah lifts his head. Ice spreads over his skin and he hopes the floor is going to rip open beneath him and swallow him whole. </p><p>Uncle Zack didn't close the door of the chuck wagon.</p><p>He can see Jerome's eyes going wide at the horrible display in front of him as he realizes what Jeremiah has been doing for years, the horrible secret he kept and Jeremiah sinks his head again, his cheeks burning hot with shame. <em>I'm sorry</em>, he thinks desperately, <em>I'm sorry.</em></p><p>Uncle Zack just keeps going. And as numb as Jeremiah felt only seconds ago, the more the pain is crashing down on him now. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Every step hurts. Jeremiah should be used to it by now, but the circumstances of tonight's events weigh him down even more than usual. He has no idea how to approach Jerome after this. He doesn't even want to imagine the things his brother must think of him now.</p><p>He just hopes Jerome is be smart enough not to mention anything about it around Uncle Zack. Jeremiah would never be able to forgive himself if Uncle Zack ever -</p><p>He shudders.</p><p>With aching bones, he manages to reach the door to their cramped room. As soon as he pulls it open, expecting - <em>hoping</em> - to find the room empty, there are arms around him. Jeremiah gasps, tensing up immediately.</p><p>Jerome is shaking. One of his hands is gripping Jeremiah's hair, the other wrapped around him tightly enough to hurt. "You should've told me", he whispers, hugging Jeremiah even tighter, nuzzling his temple and it feels so <em>good</em> that Jeremiah think he's going to shatter any second. "You should've...fuck, Miah, why didn't you <em>tell</em> me?" He sounds desperate, almost pleading in a way.</p><p>"He would've done it to you." Jeremiah buries his face in Jerome's neck, tears trickling from behind his closed eyes. Jerome is hugging him. Holding him. <em>Loving him</em>. "He said...I...I couldn't <em>let</em> him..!"</p><p>"You protected me." Jerome's lips are against his skin, leaving sweet little kisses everywhere they touch. "You dumb fuck. That's <em>my</em> job."</p><p>And Jeremiah laughs because that response is nothing if not typical and it feels so, <em>so</em> good. He missed this. He missed Jerome. More than he could ever explain.</p><p>It's almost surreal.</p><p>After years of keeping distance while also starving for affection, years of suffering under their uncle's palm, years of feeling dirty and worthless -</p><p>Jeremiah realizes he isn't laughing anymore when Jerome sinks to the floor with him and pulls him in his lap, like he always would when they were children. It's been so long. It feels so good. It's too <em>much - </em></p><p>Jerome is kissing his tears away, every single drop being caught by a pair of lips identical to his own. "Big brother's gonna fix this", he promises and Jeremiah has no idea how he means that, how he plans to fix anything about this mess but it doesn't <em>matter</em>.</p><p>Jeremiah has him back. He has Jerome back.</p>
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